


The Fair Maid of Winterfell

by clutzycricket



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 18:44:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3702243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clutzycricket/pseuds/clutzycricket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Long Night is ended, Sansa Stark is called upon to discuss the issue of her marriage options.</p><p>This is not quite the solemn occasion the High Septon might have imagined, but really, what could he expect?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fair Maid of Winterfell

_I have survived worse than this_ , she told herself, yet she still felt the urge to flee back to Winterfell, half-rebuilt as it was.

“Steady, girl,” her great-uncle whispered. “You know the worst they can do already, and that wolf of a sister of yours is ready for it.”

She smoothed away the irritated scowl at that. While she understood Arya better, now, Arya’s way of dealing with things was  _dangerous_. 

And irritating to explain away.

The Princess of Dorne met her eyes and winked, and she felt a bit better, reminded she had allies in this. Uncle Edmure had managed to charm the Queen- or at least convince him that he could do her no serious harm, and kept his seat. Jon and Bran had kept the North in Stark hands after the Manderlys and had lead a rebellion. (Also, possibly, Wylla and the Queen, considering the green haired girl’s… closeness to the Silver Queen.) Tyrion had promised her no ill will, and named Myrcella and her Martell husband as his heir to Casterly Rock, which was still teetering on the brink of rebellion. Asha had grinned and promised her vote, since Sansa would do the same. 

Now what to do with the Reach, the Vale, and the Faith, she thought desperately. Nominally, this would be a matter for the Faith, but after the… issues of the past few years, popular noble sentiment called for reform. 

So this was to happen.

“Sansa of House… Stark,” the High Septon paused, and she met his eyes as blankly as Arya would have, enjoying watching him stumble. She had heard what had happened to Margaery and her cousins, who had done nothing wrong but earn Queen Cersei’s jealousy.

She had the entire story out of the Tyrells, when she arrived in the city.

“That is me,” she said, voice carrying.

“Your marriage history is very murky, shall we say?” he said.

“The realm’s history was very murky, High Septon,” Sansa said pertly, “and it was a dangerous time for all, especially a girl with no protectors worth their steel after my father’s death. He brokered a marriage with a boy who he believed to be his best friend’s son, and made to dissolve the contract when he learned of his cruelty, only the King died, and I was held hostage. One of your predecessors dissolved that contract, so  _that_  was cleanly done, at least.” She tilts her head. “Besides, he is dead and therefore is one of the only carrion crows not fighting for my hand. Unless he has somehow returned?”

Someone- Lord Willas, she suspects, because Asha is laughing openly- lets out a muffled snort. 

“Gods, please no,” Tyrion mutters, somehow loud enough to carry. “I refuse to deal with that mess again.”

“Lord Lannister was married to you in full view of the court, is that not true?” the High Septon thundered. 

Sansa nodded. “We were both threatened into the marriage, with it being made clear that we would suffer greatly if we were not compliant. As Joffrey had me… punished in full view of the court, and given Lord Tywin’s reputation, I did not disbelieve them. We did not consummate the marriage, which was widely known.” She took a deep and shaky breath. “There is also a point of law I would like to point out?”

“Yes, well, Lord Lannister has also asked for the marriage to be dissolved, and I’ve heard enough to convince me,” the High Septon said. The Queen looked rather like one of her dragons, after gorging on sheep.

Sansa decided to wait on her point, then, given Lady Anya’s smug smile. The Tyrells were watching curiously, and Lord Willas was gripping his cane nervously. She wanted to give him a reassuring smile, but she was still… 

 _Sweet letters were easy enough to fake,_ a wild part of her mind said,  _no matter what everyone said. What if, what if, what if…_

“And the betrothal to the Lord of the Eyrie?” he said. “There is a contract.”

Sansa’s smile grew sharp. “This was done under false pretenses. Lady Anya Waynewood thought she was marrying Lord Harry to a bastard daughter of Lord Baelish to relieve her debts. Neither she nor Lord Harry were… enthusiastic about the marriage until after Lord Baelish’s death, when they thought me Lady of Winterfell. Which,” she said dryly, “I am not, with two brothers still living. Lord Baelish’s reputation was doubtful while living, and after his death has revealed worse crimes then many knew. He had no claim to broker a marriage for me.”

Jeyne Poole’s face was in her mind’s eye, and she wished he could die again, for what he did to her, to her father, if Sansa was right, and death was still too good for him. But the Vale was loaded with silver, after the winter, and this was not the High Sparrow.

“Lady Stark?” It was Arianne who spoke, and if she looked a bit like she had a secret, well, Arianne always looked like that, and Willas could hardly bring it up. “what was your point of law, again? There was another claim, after all, and all facts should be considered.”

“That my marriage to Lord Tyrion and any subsequent attempts at betrothal were invalid due to precontract,” she said, looking as innocent as possible. The High Septon’s eyes went wide, though.

“Explain.”

“After my brother’s murder, I was de facto regent or lady of Winterfell, depending on the niceties of the law,” she said, wrinkling her nose and pretending her heart was not still hurting, a little. But she was so very good at pretending, and most of her audience knew how her sweetness could mask her fury. “I will leave that for the maesters to sort out, I think, it is all terribly complex.”

Lady Shireen hid a smile behind her hand. Sansa had dictated many of the letters out of Winterfell when they were sorting out the mess after the Wall fell.

“I willingly agreed to marry Lord Willas Tyrell, then heir to Highgarden,” she said, smiling benignly at them all. “We have been corresponding for the past year, and I have sought additional opinions of the lord, given my past woes. I see no reason to break my word, and will happily wed him and tie the North to the rest of the Kingdoms in this manner.”

The Queen nodded at that, and Harry scowled and muttered something.

But Willas was beaming, and Wylla was bouncing in her seat, and poor Margaery was giving her a quiet sort of smile from behind Jon, so she did not care what was said of her.


End file.
